I put my arm out the window,
feel the wind pressing against my skin,
creating ripples in my tired flesh
and I close my eyes
to feel the rush of
air and breeze and nature
mixed with the industry of speed
I am no longer breathing high desert air.
Instead the briny scents
whisk me into a decade ago
and beaches and coastal drives
where I am all and everything
and freedom is real and not imagined
and your hands are here and so am I
all because of the wind on my skin.